


Sybill is Trying

by cleodoxa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleodoxa/pseuds/cleodoxa
Summary: Sybill is feeling more confident as the school prepares to reopen after the Battle of Hogwarts, which is nice for her though whether it really makes her less irritating is for her colleagues to judge. A turn of events requires the teachers to decide whether they really want to carry on just as before.
Kudos: 4





	Sybill is Trying

Sybill was feeling quite good.

“Oh no, I feel much better, looking forward to teaching in September,” she assured Minerva when the Headmistress asked, with well-concealed but not entirely undetectable hope, whether she might like to take a sabbatical. “I did have a harrowing year, it’s true. Being so sensitive, perhaps the occupation of the castle was worse for me than others. The consciousness of their presence and the dreadful sensation of pollution never left me. But my colleagues also suffered and are showing great resilience in turning to face the many challenges the future will bring. Now there is nowhere I would rather be than ranged among you, where I can warn you about those challenges.”

“That’s good to hear, Sybill. I’m glad you’re recovering so well. You do seem much better,” said Minerva — after a little silence, it was true, but still, perhaps she was glad.

“It’s a surprising boost to the morale, no longer being thought of as some sort of _fraud!_ ” said Sybill, drawing out the last word with accusatory horror for her past suffering.

Minerva nodded briefly. “I’m sure it must be,” she said, and left it at that.

It had finally come out that Sybill had made a momentous prophecy on the most important events of the century, which had unfolded just as she’d predicted. Sybill would have been even more outraged that nobody had bothered to tell her if she hadn’t come so quickly to feel as if she had known all along. It explained so perfectly her sensations of grievance and unjust neglect all those years. The mystical, all-seeing part of her had known all along — and Sybill couldn’t help being a trifle irritated that it, too, hadn’t bothered to tell the rest of her.

You-Know-Who being really dead and gone for good was uplifting too, of course. The relief of the Carrows’ absence was great. Now that she didn’t need it so much, Sybill was able to admit she was drinking far too much sherry, and stopped. Over the summer, as well as being astonished and delighted by her prophecy becoming public, Sybill had worked with the rest of the staff to repair Hogwarts. She wouldn’t have expected to enjoy this — hard work during the holidays, being forced to spend time with her colleagues. But to her surprise she found herself enjoying it. She would never have expected to feel so efficient. But whether she was combining her spellwork with others’ or being sent off to this or that part of the castle entrusted with an important task or offering her opinion on what remained to be done, it all seemed to go rather well.

And the other staff members were surprisingly easy to get along with. They had all fought together in the Battle and for now at least that meant each of them was good enough for everyone else. They all wanted to get the school open in September, to give everyone a sense of normality, and lost sight of individual ego in the eagerness to do what it took to get the job done. Casual chit-chat became a greater pleasure than ever before, even between people who’d never cared for one another, because it was so wonderful for the world to be casual. Sybill had taken comfort from Pomona Sprout and Rolanda Hooch’s cheerful willingness to admit their limitations or lack of knowledge. Seeing how everyone assured one another that they’d manage somehow, Sybill felt able to admit her own lack of confidence. Irma Pince, who’d always seemed so forbidding, turned out to be just the person to go to if you wanted to complain about someone or something else. Horace Slughorn had a new-found interest in her, which Sybill of course saw straight through and scorned, but rather basked in anyway. Aurora Sinistra asked her to explain the science of prediction. Sybill’s throat closed up for a moment before she said that she had no memory of making her most important prediction. “It doesn’t feel as if it was me at all,” she said, which seemed to make Aurora more interested rather than less. If nothing else, Sybill was more sure of what Arithmancy was after their conversation.

Sybill had given some thought to the prospect of making more prophecies — dramatic, poetically true ones that came through her rather than from her. She’d thought more about how being a person who definitely did make real prophecies surely meant that the ones where she was looking into her crystal ball and _felt_ that she saw something were real too. So she was as surprised as anyone else, though perhaps happier, when she made another real prophecy on the first of September, at breakfast on the day the students would return. Sybill felt unexpectedly drowsy and was about to pour herself a cup of coffee instead of her usual tea but oblivion intervened.

She thought she’d dropped off for a moment and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Discomforted, she saw that everyone had; all the other teachers were looking at her, returning her baffled stare as she became alarmed.

“You’ve made another prophecy, Sybill,” said Minerva, taking pity on her.

“What did I say?” Sybill really didn’t like the lack of control that seemed to be an inseparable part of her gift.

“The tradition has worn itself out and a choice must be made. There is a way to return and a way to continue without looking back. Something like that,” Minerva said.

“Well, we all felt today was important anyway, didn’t we? We’ve got to prove Hogwarts is strong enough to continue. Do you think you meant something like that, Sybill?” asked Pomona.

Sybill considered. “We may find our expectations that things will be more or less as they were before to be wishful thinking. There are more sacrifices ahead, and we must be careful they are the right ones.”

“I’m sure we’ll bear it in mind,” said Minerva and promptly began an animated discussion with Filius about drainpipes.

“We certainly shall. If any sacrifice presents itself I shall be sure to consider: now, are you the right sacrifice? Perhaps I’d better not make you, just to be safe!” Horace said. Sybill gave him a cold look. “But truthfully now, I would like to express my sense of privilege which I know we all share. To have a great prophetess on hand to steer our ship through the rocks! We must do our best to take all possible advantage of your warning.” Sybill nodded graciously.

Sybill spent the rest of the day flitting about both physically and mentally. She took a walk around the castle, trying to see it from the perspective of a student hoping to see it as it had always been. Had the work she and the others did over the summer achieved as much as it had seemed at the time? On the whole she thought so. There was only the odd crack in the masonry where before there had been chunks gouged out, the odd seam in a slashed tapestry. There was a stained glass window that had been too shattered for repair. Unpleasant reminders for people who had the unpleasant memories to match and knew just where to look for the marks, but on the whole Hogwarts had regained serene, ancient normality.

She looked through her timetable and her lesson plans and imagined herself taking classes in the ideal future that was now almost here. There still seemed no reason why it shouldn’t arrive. She was safe after the dreadful ordeal of the last few years, and, newly authoritative, her position was more secure than it had ever been. She was an esteemed Hogwarts Professor educating the next generation, passing on the secrets of Divination. Who else would Sybill want to be but herself?

She had a cup of tea with Poppy Pomfrey. They talked about how much they were looking forward to the term beginning and about the latest Death Eater arrests and Poppy agreed when Sybill said that she and Poppy must deal with the students’ troubled souls more substantially than many of the rest of the staff. “Fear and hatred cloud the inner eye,” said Sybill. “The first thing I must do is try to clear their vision.”

She took a walk in the grounds, splashes of colour just beginning to tinge the trees. Sometimes joy drove her along. She had made another prediction, and everyone had seen and she really thought everyone believed she was foretelling the future. Being a one-hit wonder would have been better than nothing but it seemed she was to have more! Sometimes agitation drove her along as Sybill tried to shake off waves of fear. More historical things happening! She didn’t want them to happen! And now whatever might happen, Sybill was associated with it, before it was all resolved. The life of a prophetess was not all roses, Sybill reflected. She had been only allowed only a brief inhale of sweet scent before a thorn pricked her. She began to calm a little as she reflected how inevitable this was. She had always said the gift of Seeing was a burden.

*

“At least the students have all arrived without incident. That’s one snare for disaster safely navigated,” Sybill said reassuringly to Minerva as the Sorting Feast began. “I thought they might be attacked on the train or in Hogsmeade. If you couldn’t convince parents that you could keep them safe that might end Hogwarts for good before the term even began. A thousand-year tradition could end in a moment!”

“Consciousness of my responsibilities never leaves me, Sybill,” said Minerva, though Sybill thought she looked like someone who might have preferred to forget bitter reality. But Sybill had responsibilities herself, and could not allow herself to be intimidated out of them.

There was not much longer to wait for the worn-out tradition to show itself. The Hat did not sing its usual song . The moment came. They all looked at it expectantly. The moment went.

“Mebbe it’s sulkin’,” suggested Hagrid.

Minerva gave the Hat a long look. “Well, if it won’t sing, let’s see if it will sort.”

The first years, who had never seen the Sorting Ceremony before, mostly didn’t look as though they’d realised something was awry.

Dagbert Arnold was beckoned forward and sat down on the stool with the Hat on his head as so many other children had sat over the centuries. He put the Hat on with hands shaking with the same excitement and trepidation that most of those other students had felt. This time the action wasn’t followed by the reappearance of his face glowing with release of tension, overjoyed to be something, whatever it was. His face did reappear after six minutes, just as the staff were beginning to murmur “What a Hatstall!” But it was anxious and strained.

“I don’t think it’s working?” said Dagbert in a small voice, looking about to find someone to address himself to in the Great Hall full of strangers.

Minerva came forward. “Sometimes it does take a long time. What did it say?”

“It didn’t say anything for ages. Then it said ‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I want to do this anymore.’ And it sounded really sad and tired. And I thought, but I want to be Sorted, and it said, “Tell the world who you are when you’re older. Don’t let me tell you now. I’m only a hat, what do I know?’”

Minerva put on the Hat with the impatient gesture of one about to give a Hat a jolly good talking to.

“You see! A tradition has worn itself out!!” Sybill hissed down the High Table. Everyone was avidly watching Minerva

After a couple of minutes Minerva took the Hat off. Her movement was slow and reluctant and for as long as it lasted she looked as much at a loss as Sybill had ever seen her.

“First years, I think it would be best if you found seats anywhere you like while we continue with the Feast for the meantime. We teachers will put our heads together and see if we can get you Sorted this evening. Don’t worry too much about it. We welcome you into the school wholeheartedly, just as you are.” Minerva looked meaningfully at those seated and uncertain applause and cheers gradually broke out.

“Is it depressed? Does it need a pep talk?” asked Pomona.

“I suppose so, and I did try,” Minerva said with a sigh. “I couldn’t seem to get through to it. It just kept saying that a thousand years was long enough and it was time to let it go. It sounded very old and sad and I must admit it rather depressed me.”

“We know there is a way to make the Hat work again, or at least Sort the students without it, because I said so this morning! And we know that you can bring the tradition to a close and make the school work without it, because I said that too, or at least implied it. But perhaps the choices aren’t equal, perhaps one of them will lead to the downfall of Hogwarts,” said Sybill, her mind racing as she spoke.

“The problem with prophecies is that they seem designed to be understood only when it’s too late,” said Minerva. “I say, if we can mend the Hat we mend it, and if we can’t then we move on without Sorting. I don’t want to try out some Sorting system we’ve thought of on the trot, it’s too important for that.”

“If we didn’t have the Houses then we wouldn’t have House points or the House Cup,” Horace pointed out.

“And no inter-house Quidditch matches,” said Rolanda Hooch in a tone of unbelieving despair.

“You’re right, I don’t see how we could do without those,” Minerva said very seriously.

“You know Minerva, sometimes an individual finds themselves at a turning point in history and they are called upon to be a visionary, even if they’ve never been one before,” said Sybill.

“I’m not going to be more visionary than I need to be. Muggle schools have Houses without Hats, where the students are divided up at random. So can we if we have to. But oh, I don’t want to! I must admit I don’t want to,” said Minerva, shaking her head and wincing a little.

“It’s very peculiar to imagine a Ravenclaw no longer being a Ravenclaw,” said Filius, shaking his head too as he tried to imagine it.

“None of our memories would mean anything to the students who grow up that way,” said Pomona.

Sybill didn’t feel quite so attached to the House system. She’d always taken pride in belonging to the House for people with special mental powers, of course, but she’d have known she had those wherever she was, and so would any new students who had them.

“A way to return…” mused Filius. “You know, I think we could rejuvenate the Hat by doing what the Founders did. The four House Heads could each imbue the Hat with a little of their own discernment. We’d have to consider the charmwork very carefully but it would be very interesting.”

Horace at least liked the idea; his eyes widened with delighted temptation. “I’d be glad to do anything I could to help. It would be a great privilege to follow in the Founders’ footsteps,” he said.

“I think that might well work. And it would be very neat and convenient, and we’d find it interesting to do, and we’d find it gratifying to know we’d left something of ourselves to Hogwarts. It’s very tempting. But then there are things I’m not so sure about. Filius and I were two of the students the Hat had most trouble with. Doesn’t it seem a bit odd for us to present ourselves as exemplars of what’s most distinctive about Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?”

Filius screwed his face up in perplexity.

“I remember Albus wondered occasionally if we couldn’t Sort the students when they were a little older,” said Horace, ready to defer responsibility.

“Whatever you do, you should make the most of the opportunity to deal with the Slytherin problem,” said Sybill. “Did you notice the first years sitting down? One or two headed straight over to Slytherin but the rest of those places were only filled when there weren’t any others left. No one wants to be a nasty old Slytherin anymore! Why can’t we do without them altogether?” What a brilliant innovation, she thought. Why had no one dared suggest it before? All these centuries of them brooding and pushing — nobody liked them and yet they were everywhere!

Horace’s face was a picture. Sybill saw some other faces with “It’s an idea!” expressions that were only a tiny bit ironic.

“Iconoclasm for all or for none, Sybill,” Minerva said firmly.

“Iconoclasm for all, then. Why else were you granted a prophecy if not to prepare you for the momentousness of this moment? We have been given an opportunity to break free from the mistakes of the past!” said Sybill.

Minerva leaned back in her chair and looked around the Hall. Her clasped hands squeezed each other hard for a moment. “I’m thinking of Albus. And I’m thinking of unity. And I think perhaps…”

Sybill almost burst into speech again but it occurred to her that doing so might irritate Minerva out of her momentum.

“I don’t think I mind if the Houses aren’t really different anymore,” said Pomona, not kept silent by the same scruple. “Hufflepuff has always ‘taught the rest’ whoever they were. It would be like the whole school going Hufflepuff. Just one cheerful muddle.”

A pang passed behind Minerva’s face but she visibly dismissed it.

“We can still have healthy rivalries between the houses, only it would be less personal. I could still lead my House to excellence. And we can keep the colours, can’t we?” said Horace, wistfully asking to be convinced. A man like Horace would understand the extent of Slytherin’s PR problem right now and be concerned. Slytherin not really being Slytherin, but looking enough like Slytherin to allow those who wanted to pretend might be a timely solution. The died-in-the-wool Slytherin families would be apoplectic, of course, but that was rather an advantage. Come to think of it, some Gryffindors would react the same way — but Sybill would rather enjoy that too. Hufflepuff had nothing to lose and while some Ravenclaws would feel like intellectuals isolated in a sea of plebs, they might enjoy that in a way. Yes, it would be the right level of chaos and dismay. Sybill would have lots to say about it in the coming months without wanting to run away, and something might come of it.

“And the common rooms?” asked Pomona. Nobody wanted to end up in the dungeons on the basis that the Slytherins had suffered the damp long enough.

“I don’t see why not,” said Minerva.

“Perhaps we might still be allowed to attempt to inculcate our House’s qualities? It would be an interesting study on nature versus nurture,” Horace offered, without much real hope.

“I don’t think so. No. It wouldn’t be abiding by the spirit of the change and the more I think about it the more I want change. What if we had a school that produced four quarters of brave Gryffindors, that were also wise Ravenclaws, ambitious Slytherins and hardworking Hufflepuffs? We’ve assumed all these years that we can’t have everything and we have to choose. Perhaps every once in a while we should make sure there’s a reason why we don’t try to have everything.” This was not how Sybill expected Minerva to talk. She looked uncomfortable doing it. Such an interesting day this had been!

“Will you tell the students about our decision tonight?” asked Filius.

“Hmm. Yes. Nothing good can come from gossiping and speculation and perhaps we’d do well to commit ourselves so we can’t keep waffling and going backwards and forwards.”

“We’d probably better divide them into Houses tonight too, by alphabetical order or whatever we're doing now, so they know they’re sleeping in their own beds,” said Pomona.

Of course, as Minerva stood up Sybill felt a cold chill come over her. Minerva would never admit it but surely Sybill’s prophecy and Sybill’s gloss on it had played a crucial role in convincing her to take this step. She began to scrabble to find ways in which she had advised Minerva to stick to tradition but couldn’t find any. She’d got carried away. It seemed she was well and truly implicated. At this point the gasps came in response to Minerva’s announcement, and had the effect of putting Sybill back on her mettle. If the new House system worked nobody could blame her for anything, and surely Sybill could help to make it work? Surely she was capable of exerting some influence on the course of events as well as predicting them? And nobody else would know just what they were doing. They’d be caught on the hop. Surely Sybill could get _into_ the hop.


End file.
